


The Lone and Level Sands

by flashforeward



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashforeward/pseuds/flashforeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Enterprise begins its five year mission, Jim Kirk is trying to balance Captaincy and Friendship, and a trip to an Alien world petitioning to join the Federation may be more helpful than it first appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In This Game We Play

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Percy B. Shelley's poem Ozymandias. All chapter titles are taken from Hanson's song Bridges of Stone. Thank you to sevsgirl72 for betaing! I'm resurrecting this and finally finishing it!

James Kirk lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling of his cabin, wishing the sterile metal above him was at least tiled so he could have something to count. He would much rather focus on some sort of task than on the meandering thoughts that came unbidden to the forefront of his mind.  
  
He had, in his opinion, been lying there trying not to think for far too long, particularly when he considered that he was failing at the not thinking and his mind was just going every which way it possibly could, especially the way he didn’t want it to. He wished they’d run into an unexplored planet so he could have something else to think about, something pressing, but they had only just left Earth a few days before and there was enough explored space between them and the unknown to leave him bored and his mind jumbled.  
  
And every time he thought maybe he’d finally be able to relax, his mind went right back to where he didn’t want it to go: Spock.  
  
He had all those memories that older Spock had given him, and all the feelings and emotions that went with them, and they were making him more than a little crazy. He felt like he and the younger Spock should have that relationship, that friendship the older Spock talked about, but they didn’t and it was frustrating. He felt like he was letting the older Spock (and his other self, he supposed) down somehow.  
  
He felt like he wasn’t trying hard enough.  
  
He’d thought (assumed?) that after everything they went through on the Narada, after having to fight for their lives, that they would at least be _closer_ to being friends. Certainly, their relationship had definitely changed. It was more civil than before, and maybe more friendly in a way, but it wasn’t _really_ friendship.  
  
Not yet.  
  
In all honesty, Jim wasn’t entirely certain where he stood with his first officer. Right when he thought he had it figured out, something would happen that would make him reconsider. Maybe he’d say something that caused Spock to turn all tight lipped and cold, or Spock would ramble off something about logic that Jim understood but didn’t see the point of and it felt like they were back at square one.  
  
It was frustrating and annoying and he just wished it made sense.  
  
Jim groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, pushing the thoughts aside. Being alone was obviously not an option at this point, and over thinking everything was not going to help, so he hopped up from his bed. He grabbed his tunic and pulled it on, taking a brief moment to admire the look of the gold on him (again) before jogging out the door and down the corridor to the turbo lift.  
  
“Deck five,” he called out as he slid to a halt inside. He clutched at the handle on the side of the lift, keeping his energy up to keep his mind from settling back on the same topic. When the doors opened, he bolted down the hall, plastering a grin on his face, and ducked into Sickbay.  
  
Bones was behind his desk, squinting down at a PADD. Probably some medical text he wanted to refresh himself on or something, Jim thought. He rapped lightly on the door frame and Bones held up his ‘just a minute’ finger. Jim’s grin grew a little wider and he cleared his throat.  
  
“Is that how you act when your Captain wants to speak with you, Doctor?” he asked, keeping his voice as formal as possible and standing up straight. Never mind the fact that he was smiling – not that it mattered since Bones didn’t even look up.  
  
“Just a minute, Jim,” Bones said, scrolling through the PADD, obviously reading whatever it was _very carefully_.  
  
Jim decided on a different tact. He crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to pout, and tried again, “What could you possibly be reading that’s more important than me?”  
  
Finally, Bones looked up. “That depends on why you’re here.”  
  
“What if I was hurt?”  
  
“Then Chapel would have already put you on a bed and come to get me,” Bones said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. “Unless it wasn’t that serious, in which case she would’ve treated you and let you go.”  
  
Jim shook his head and walked into the room, leaning against Bones’ desk. “What if I wanted you to treat me and wouldn’t accept Nurse Chapel’s help?”  
  
“Then you’d be a moron,” Bones said easily. “I have a very competent staff, and you know it.”  
  
“Yes, but no one has a bedside manner quite like yours.” All pretense was gone, Jim was grinning like a maniac and he was pretty sure that weird scoffing sound was actually Bones chuckling (not that he was about to ask) and that was enough of an accomplishment for the day.  
  
Bones sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder how you got a command so damn fast,” he said.  
  
If Jim’s grin could’ve gotten wider, it would have. As it was, he just winked. “And then you reread the report on the fight with the Narada and you remember, right?”  
  
“Nope,” Bones said, a smile tugging at his mouth. “I reread it and _keep_ wondering.”  
  
“Very funny,” Jim mumbled, glaring at his friend. “Now, c’mon, Doc, I need your help.”  
  
“With what?”  
  
Jim pushed the pile of PADDs to the side and slid up to sit on Bones’ desk, swinging his legs out in front of him and watching his friend carefully. “I need my head shrunk,” he said.  
  
“Yes, well, I am not a shrink,” Bones replied, quick and easy, like their banter always was.  
  
Jim shrugged. “You took psychology courses,” he said. Pushing the issue like he always did, like he needed to this time.  
  
“That doesn’t make me qualified. We have plenty of certified psychologists on board, Jim, go see one of them. I hear Doctor Dehner is particularly good.”  
  
Jim rolled his eyes. “You’re missing the point, Bones,” he said as petulantly as he could. “I want to talk to _you_ because you’re my _friend_.”  
  
Bones grunted. “Get more friends,” he muttered, grabbing another PADD and bending his head low to read it, avoiding the much exaggerated pout Jim was sending his way.  
  
“C’mon, Bones!” Jim slid off the desk and pulled the extra chair over to sit down properly. “You gotta help me.”  
  
“Fine, speak.”  
  
“It’s about Spock.”  
  
“Of course it is.” Bones leaned back and put the PADD aside, looking Jim in the eye, his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
It unnerved Jim more than a little that Bones had been expecting this. “Uh, yeah,” he said. He swallowed and shook his head and tried to think of how to continue, but he couldn’t think of anything but, “how did you know?”  
  
Bones shrugged. “You’ve been acting odd around him since we shipped out,” he said. “Like you’re not entirely sure where you stand. To be honest, I was wondering if you’d slept with him. Or, well, wanted to sleep with him, considering that whole thing he’s got with Uhura.” Bones waved his hand to the side in a noncommittal gesture, and Jim watched it for a minute, wrapping his head around what Bones had said.  
  
When it sank in, he snapped his eyes back to Bones’ face. “What?” Jim asked. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say. He knew he probably looked like a fish out of water, but he really didn’t care that much considering he _felt_ like one, too? “You didn’t…you can’t…No! What made you think a thing like that?!”  
  
Bones shrugged again, obviously struggling not to laugh. “Hey, that’s usually how that little dance works,” he said. “I’ve been there, and I’ve seen you there, too.”  
  
“What? Dance? When?” Jim cursed Bones for having that irritating ability to make him inarticulate.  
  
“At the academy,” Bones elaborated. “You slept with enough people that you were bound to get a few awkward encounters after. And you did. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. Then again, you were probably too busy trying to pick up the next night’s date.”  
  
“Your opinion of me is just so positive,” Jim said, shaking his head. “Thank you.”  
  
“It’s not an opinion, Jim, it’s a fact,” Bones said. “Besides, you’re not here to talk about your academy affairs. What about our pointy eared friend has you so muddled?”  
  
“I told you about meeting that other Spock, right?” Jim asked, glad to change the subject, though he did vow to get Bones back _somehow_ for this.  
  
Bones nodded. “Quite a few times.”  
  
“Yeah, well, he mind melded with me.”  
  
“I think you mentioned that.”  
  
“All right, well, he also told me that me and Spock are supposed to be friends.”  
  
Silence hung over the room for a few minutes, then Bones blinked and shook his head. “Wait,” he asked, “that’s what you wanted to tell me?”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Jim said. “I wanted to know what you think I should do. I mean, I thought maybe we’d be closer to that by now, after the whole fighting for our lives thing, but, uh, I don’t know if ‘friend’ is the term I’d use for us right now.”  
  
Bones laughed. Jim stared at him, wondering if it would be amiss for the Captain of a star ship to punch his Chief Medical Officer. It probably would, but Bones was making it extremely tempting at the moment, laughing that full bellied laugh of his, with his head thrown back and everything.  
  
Jim clenched his fists against his thighs. “It’s not funny,” he said.  
  
The laughter died down and Bones took a deep breath, lowering his head to look at Jim again. “Yes it is,” he said, a light chuckle still in his voice. “You thought it would be that easy? A mind meld and a gun fight and then you guys would be bosom buddies?”  
  
“I dunno,” Jim mumbled, suddenly feeing very embarrassed.  
  
“It ain’t that simple, Jim,” Bones said. “Friendship isn’t something that happens because some crazy old Vulcan told you it would, it takes time.” He shrugged. “Just wait and see.”  
  
“I just…I thought,” Jim sighed. “I assumed it would be easier than this.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you know what they say,” Bones said, pulling the PADD he had discarded earlier off the desk and scrolling through it.  
  
Jim didn’t bother to ask what they said. He stood, waving absentmindedly at his friend, then left the Sick Bay. He meandered through the corridors of the ship for awhile, listening to the constant calming hum she made and letting her keep his mind off of his green-blooded problem.  
  
He was on his ship, with his crew. He was _Captain_ , and they were exploring the galaxy. So what if he and his first officer weren’t best buds?  
  
When he reached the lounge, however, his contentment vanished.  
  
Spock was seated at a table playing a game of chess against Chekov. The young Russian was putting up a good fight, but Jim could tell he’d be mated in four turns. Three, if Spock didn’t rely so much on logic.  
  
Jim carefully stepped up to the table, making sure both players knew of his arrival, then took a seat to watch the rest of the game. As he had guessed, it didn’t last much longer. Spock mated Chekov in those four moves, and the Ensign moved off to join Sulu and Scotty a few tables over in a game of cards. Complete with a bottle of scotch to go around.  
  
Jim watched them for a few moments, smiling at the camaraderie that was already settling over his crew. It was good to see the friendship arising, to watch the interactions and see that even long after their terms on the Enterprise, these men and women would remember each other.  
  
“Did you want to play, Captain?” Spock’s voice broke through Jim’s strange little reverie, pulling him back to the 3D chess set before him.  
  
Jim shrugged. “Sure, why not,” he said, moving to sit in the chair Chekov had just vacated while Spock reset the board. “I suppose you want to be black?” he asked, watching as Spock carefully set up the pieces. He focused his attention on the Vulcan’s slim fingers, watching them hold and release each piece in its place.  
  
“It is only logical,” Spock replied. “I am older than you.”  
  
“And you won’t let me forget it, right?” Jim asked, grinning.  
  
Spock looked up at him, an eyebrow raised in puzzlement. “I do not recall ever excessively reminding you of our age difference,” he said.  
  
Jim sighed. “It’s a figure of speech,” he said, examining the board for a few minutes. He moved his king's bishop's pawn, a typical opening move. One that Spock would be expecting.  
  
Spock countered with his own pawn. “I apologize,” he said as he moved the piece two squares forward and to the neutral level. “I’m afraid I am not as accustomed to Human figures of speech as I would like to be.”  
  
Jim nodded slowly, looking over his options. He played out a few turns in his mind, wondering what Spock was expecting him to do. Depending on Spock’s moves, Jim was pretty sure he could mate quickly, and since Jim was sure it was easier for him to predict Spock’s moves than for Spock to predict his, he wouldn’t be surprised if he did just that.  
  
He developed his queen's knight, setting it down where his pawn had been at the beginning of the game.  
  
“Fascinating,” Spock mumbled. Jim smiled and leaned back in his chair, content that he would win this game.  
  
He watched Spock thinking, wondering if he should make some sort of small talk. Questions shifted around in his mind, many of them far more personal than Jim thought polite. There was so much about his first officer that he didn’t really know, and as Spock made his move (queen's bishop's pawn), Jim decided he’d eventually have to ask those personal questions anyway, so why not do it now.  
  
“How are you and Lieutenant Uhura doing?” he asked, carefully watching Spock even while he surveyed the board.  
  
His first officer’s expression remained as impassive as always as he clasped his hands in front of him and fixed his gaze steadily on Jim. “We have decided to terminate our romantic relationship,” he said matter-of-factly.  
  
Jim was pretty sure only a Vulcan could be that cool about a break up. “And why did you do that?” he asked, moving his king's knight's pawn, having decided to give Spock more of a fighting chance.  
  
“We discussed the issue and determined it would be better for the mission if we kept our relationship professional,” Spock replied, shifting his king's bishop forward a few spaces. “It was Lieutenant Uhura’s idea, and her logic was sound, so I saw no reason to question her conclusion.”  
  
“So it was mutual?” Jim asked. Spock nodded. “Well, that’s good.” Jim nodded his head slowly, barely paying attention as he made his next move - queen's bishop's pawn forward two and to neutral level.  
  
“Is there any particular reason for the question?” Spock asked, not looking at Jim. His gaze was on the board, an eyebrow raised at the move Jim had made.  
  
Jim shrugged. “Just wondering,” he said. “Gotta make sure my crew isn’t going to kill each other over petty squabbles.”  
  
“Your move is illogical,” Spock said, and Jim was pretty sure he hadn’t heard the answer to his question. “It opens up your Queen.”  
  
Jim grinned. “Logical or not, give me six turns and I’ll have you mated,” he said.  
  
“Doubtful,” Spock replied, moving one of his knights.  
  
The move opened the board up just as Jim had hoped it would, and he was about to make his own move, bringing him one step closer to beating Spock, when the Comm. crackled and Lieutenant Uhura’s voice came over it, loud and crisp and clear.  
  
“Captain and First Officer to the bridge,” she said.  
  
Spock stood and Jim let out a long sigh, gazing forlornly at the board for an extra second before standing as well and falling into step beside Spock on the way to the turbo lift. “I’ll get you next time, buddy,” Jim said, clapping Spock on the back as they stepped into the lift.  
  
“Bridge,” Spock said. He had raised an eyebrow at Jim, but he said nothing about the game.  
  
When the lift door opened onto the bridge, Jim had to hold his breath to keep from letting out a sigh of relief. That ride had felt far longer, and the space more enclosed, than any ride in the turbo lift ever had before. Jim let Spock exit first, watching him take those long, purposeful strides over to his station, then he stepped onto the bridge, looking over at Uhura as he crossed to the center chair.  
  
“What’ve we got?” he asked, leaning against the arm of the chair and watching Uhura carefully.  
  
She didn’t glance at Spock. She turned in her chair and looked Jim in the eye, her head high and her back straight. “We’ve just had a communiqué from Starfleet Command. Antari VI just contacted them about joining the federation, and we’re the closest ship.”  
  
Jim nodded. “Riley,” he said, turning to the helm. “Set a course for Antari VI, warp three.”  
  
“Course set, Captain. Warp three,” Riley said, putting on a thick Irish accent. One of the newer additions to his crew, Ensign Riley was a good Helmsman. Not as good as Sulu, and a little obsessed with his Irish heritage, but if Jim could put up with Chekov’s attributing everything to Russia, he could put up with Riley doing the same with Ireland.  
  
“Very good.” Jim turned back to Uhura. “Have Sulu, Chekov, and Palamas from Anthropology meet Spock and me in the briefing room,” he said. Uhura nodded and turned back to her station. Jim looked up at Spock who had already stood and was striding back across the bridge towards the Turbo Lift.  
  
Jim grinned. _Like a well oiled machine_ , he thought, surveying the bridge one more time before following Spock to the lift.


	2. Tell Right From Wrong

The people of Antari VI were very friendly and, apparently, very strict when it came to their traditions and laws. Which was why, Lieutenant Leslie informed Jim, Chekov and Sulu were now in a prison in Antari’s city center and the Antari High Council respectfully requested that Captain Kirk come to see them immediately.  
  
Jim took Spock and Bones with him when they beamed down in the center of the city, and he was glad he’d had time to get the Doctor before meeting with the Council. Jim led the way across the square to the squat building before them. The building housed everything that had to do with the Anatari laws and government. Jim, Spock, and the rest of the away team (Sulu, Chekov, and Lieutenant Palamas) had been brought here when they had first beamed down, then Sulu and Chekov and gone to look around the rest of the city while Jim, Spock, and Palamas had remained to discuss the terms of Antari’s joining the Federation.  
  
Jim hadn’t thought he would be back so soon, particularly not with two of his crewmen locked in the prison complex.  
  
Part of him wished he didn’t have to find out what they’d done, but he knew it was his duty to resolve this as quickly and quietly as possible. He didn’t want the Antarins to get the wrong idea about members of the Federation and, depending on how bad Sulu and Chekov’s crime had been, Jim feared that was exactly what would happen if he didn’t act fast.  
  
He, Spock, and Bones stood in the entry hall (the Antarins called it an Atrium, but that conjured up images of Roman villas and Jim wasn’t really in the mood to try comparing the vast, cold, metal structure he was in to the regal, stone buildings of Ancient Earth), waiting to be summoned by the Council. There was a desk-like seat nearby, and a young Antarin male sat behind it, watching the three men carefully. His staring, gold eyes sent a shiver down Jim’s spine and he had to look away.  
  
A door creaked open.  
  
“The Council will see you now,” a soft voice announced.   
  
Jim led the way across the hall and into the Council Chambers, with Bones and Spock close behind. The Council members were seated at a long, low table at the front of the room while two Antari guards held Sulu and Chekov off to the side. Jim glanced at them, trying to reassure them and gauge their treatment, but he had to quickly return his attention to the Councilors.  
  
Be’hal, the Chief Councilor, was seated in the center of the table and he looked directly at Jim as he spoke. “You have been called here because two of your men,” he gestured at Chekov and Sulu, “have made a gross slight against us.”  
  
“I find that hard to believe,” Bones mumbled.   
  
Jim knew the Councilors hadn’t heard, but he still cast Bones a warning glance. It wouldn’t help if they pissed the Antarins off even more. “I’m very sorry, Councilor,” Jim said, bowing low as was the custom. “I am sure the slight was unintentional, your laws and customs are new to us and, though we are doing our best to learn them, mistakes happen.”  
  
Before Be’hal could respond, Spock stepped forward, hands draped behind his back, and spoke. “If I may, I would like to inquire as to what exactly the slight these men are supposed to have committed was,” he said. His gaze was fixed pointedly on the Councilor to Be’hal’s right, though he was addressing the Chief.   
  
_That_ , Jim knew, was a slight, and he wondered what exactly Spock was up to.  
  
“You will address your question to me,” Be’hal said. He looked angry. At least, Jim _thought_ he looked angry. It was hard to tell with Antarins, since the ridges above their brows were always slanted downwards, but Be’hal’s eyes had darkened, so Jim thought he’d probably narrowed his eyes. Jim hoped Spock knew what he was doing.  
  
“I apologize, Councilor,” Spock said, turning his gaze to the man on Be’hal’s right. “I meant no slight.”  
  
Be’hal stood. “Then stop, you foolish Vulcan!” he shouted, pounding his tiny green fist on the table before him. He looked to Jim. “Captain, control this man or I will have him locked up with the others!”  
  
Spock bowed low, then took a step back. Jim cast him a curious glance, but now was not the time to ask after Spock’s logic and he quickly returned his attention to the Council.  
  
“My apologies,” Jim said, bowing again. “I repeat the question my first officer posed. For what crime have you imprisoned my men?”  
  
Be’hal tilted his head down ever so slightly, a sign of thanks for Jim’s acknowledgement of his status. “The crime is excessive drunkenness,” he said, and Jim wasn’t sure if that should surprise him or not. He opened his mouth to speak, but Be’hal continued. “The punishment would normally be three Lunar Cycles imprisonment, but we are prepared to make an exception for your crew provided you are personally willing to take a punishment of our choosing in their place, Captain.”  
  
Jim swallowed and glanced at Spock, but his First Officer remained as silent and stoic as usual. Jim looked over at Chekov and Sulu, they looked ashamed and embarrassed and Jim silently cursed this planet’s prudish laws about drinking – though he supposed he ought to count himself lucky that Scotty had not come down with them as well.  
  
“Your answer, Captain?” Be’hal asked, drawing Jim’s attention back to him. “Will you answer for their crimes?”  
  
Jim stood tall, looking Be’hal in the eye. “I will.”  
  
“Jim,” Bones said in a soft voice, laying a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “You don’t know what they want.”  
  
Jim brushed the hand away, turning his head slightly to catch Bones’ eye before responding. “It doesn’t matter, just get them,” he nodded towards Chekov and Sulu, “back to the ship for some rest.”  
  
“Yes,” Be’hal said. “All others will leave.”  
  
“Check, but not Mate, Captain,” Spock’s voice came from behind Jim, quiet and precise. Jim turned to look at the Vulcan, but found himself watching a row of retreating backs as Bones and Spock guided Chekov and Sulu out the doors.  
  
Jim swallowed, turning back to the table, wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into.  
  
Be’hal looked pleased now, his gold eyes glowing eerily in the well lit chamber. His fellow Council members were filing out, leaving only him and Jim. When they were gone, Be’hal rounded the table and strode forward to stand before Jim, looking up at him with those strange, squinted, golden eyes.  
  
Jim wondered which would be the greater slight: looking down at the Councilor or not looking at all. He tilted his head slightly, glancing down. He couldn’t read Be’hal’s expression, and he didn’t know what would be coming next, all he could do was wait for Be’hal to tell him exactly how he would be answering for his crewmembers’ crimes.  
  
Be’hal cleared his throat and a man came in from a side door, dragging what looked like an ottoman behind him. He pushed the ottoman up beside Be’hal, then disappeared. Be’hal stepped up onto the bit of furniture, bringing himself closer to Jim’s level, and a frightening smile tugged at his green lips.  
  
“It has been a long time since we have had a Champion,” Be’hal said. “We welcome you with open arms. A room has been prepared for you and I will lead you there myself. Tomorrow, you will face your first Challenge.”  
  
Be’hal jumped down off the ottoman and headed towards one of the doors at the back of the room. Jim followed, feeling like he was in a trance. Be’hal had said ‘champion’ and ‘challenge’ with an excitement that Jim really didn’t like the sound of that.  
  
He hoped Spock would think of something to get him out of this.  
  
***  
  
“Can you walk?” Spock asked Chekov as they emerged into the atrium. Chekov nodded and Spock let go of his arm, stepping aside. “Take them to the ship, Doctor, and inform Lieutenant Kyle I will be following shortly.”  
  
“Where d’you think you’re going?” Bones asked.  
  
“To the library, Doctor. Did you wish to accompany me?”  
  
Bones grumbled something under his breath, but he turned and led Chekov and Sulu out into the sun-lit courtyard of the Antari city. Spock watched them for a few moments, then turned down the hallway that led to the Antari library – a room filled floor to ceiling with books about only Antari laws and traditions. Spock had looked in earlier and flipped through a few of the vast tomes that lined the shelves, and he remembered seeing something that he thought might shed some light on this strange turn of events.  
  
As he walked, he mused over the encounter in the Council Chambers. He knew that neither Chekov nor Sulu would have reached a state drunkenness that would warrant their arrest. They might have been young, but they were intelligent men who took their roles as Starfleet Officers seriously, they would not jeopardize that by drinking to excess on a foreign planet, particularly not one that had its laws about drinking carved into the walls of establishments that sold alcohol.  
  
Logically, of course, Spock had deduced that there was something else going on here, and he was certain the library would give him the answers he sought.  
  
There was an aged Antari male seated just inside the door of the library, and he looked at Spock with what the Vulcan took to be distrust, but said nothing as Spock walked towards the low shelves at the far end of the room. He knew he was being watched, and he knew the encounter in the Council Chambers had something to do with it, so he would have to complete his errand as quickly as possible while still being thorough.  
  
Spock turned down a row two up from the back wall and walked down it swiftly, his hands behind his back and his head tilted just slightly so he could read the spines. When he found what he was looking for, he stopped, pulled it from the shelf, and flipped it open, turning through the pages as fast as he could while still able to take in what was written on them.  
  
Towards the middle of the text, he found what he was looking for. He read it over three times, nodded, then put the book back. “Fascinating,” he muttered to himself, draping his arms behind his back once more. He strode purposefully back through the library, out the doors, to the Atrium, and out into the cool Antari air.  
  
He stopped, pulled out his communicator, and flipped it open, looking around as he spoke. “Lieutenant Uhura.”  
  
“Uhura here.”  
  
“Please have Lieutenant Palamas, Doctor McCoy, Ensign Chekov, and Lieutenant Sulu meet in the conference room immediately. I will be joining them shortly.”  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
He closed his Communicator, then opened it again, retuning it slightly. “One to beam up, Mr. Kyle,” he said. There was the familiar lack of sensation, and then he was standing in the Enterprise transporter room looking out at Lieutenant Kyle and Lieutenant Commander Scott. “Gentlemen,” he said with a nod before striding past them and out the doors.  
  
When he reached the conference room, McCoy, Chekov, Sulu, and Palamas were all waiting there already, looking confused. Spock took a seat at the head of the table and folded his hands in front of him, surveying them carefully, choosing the most logical place to begin.  
  
He looked to Doctor McCoy. “Did you examine our wayward crew members, Doctor?” he asked.  
  
“’Course I did,” McCoy replied. “Now what the devil is going on here, Spock?”  
  
“I am getting to that, Doctor. You must be patient.” Spock glanced at Chekov and Sulu who both looked far more nervous than they had any reason to, he knew, then he returned his attention to the Doctor. “Did you find any evidence to indicate that they had been excessively drunk within the last twenty-four hours?”  
  
“No,” McCoy said, looking confused, though Spock was sure he would catch on soon.  
  
“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock said. He turned his attention to Chekov and Sulu. “Did you drink while on the planet?” he asked.  
  
Sulu glanced at Chekov who was staring down at his clasped fingers, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Sulu looked back at Spock and shook his head. “We went into one of their pubs, Sir, but we didn’t drink anything. Not even water. We just wanted to have a look around.”  
  
“As I suspected,” Spock said. “Ensign,” Chekov looked up, “you are not in trouble. You may both return to your quarters, I am sure you are in need of rest.” They got up, mumbling their thanks, and left together, their heads bowed as they began a whispered conversation.  
  
“Spock,” McCoy said after they were gone. “What is going on?”  
  
“In a moment, Doctor,” Spock said, holding up a hand while looking across the table at Lieutenant Palamas. “Lieutenant,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “how familiar are you with Antarin religious traditions?”  
  
“Not very,” Palamas said, scrunching her face up as she thought. “Their laws are very public, but they keep their religion very secret. Their religion is meant only for them, they don’t believe outsiders deserve to know anything about it.”  
  
“Are you familiar at all with the legends of the Champion?”  
  
Palamas nodded slowly. “There are vague references throughout their history and in their laws, but nothing very specific. Why?”  
  
“Then I am sure you are aware that it is believed that the Champion will visit Antari every thirty years?” Palamas nodded. “And it appears,” Spock continued, “that our visit coincides exactly with those thirty years.”  
  
“And Jim’s got himself turned into their Champion,” McCoy finished, nodding his head.  
  
Yes, Spock mused. The Doctor really did understand.


	3. Don't Give in to Your Enemies

The room Be’hal took Jim to was big by Antari standards, for which Jim was grateful. The average height of an Antari adult was only three feet five inches, with a few outliers reaching four feet exactly, but none growing any taller than that. Being around six feet tall, Jim still had to hunch, and the proportions of the bed didn’t look promising, but it was better than it could have been.   
  
He walked around it for a few minutes, examining the furniture and weird fruit basket on the table (at least, he thought that was fruit…it could have been bread for all he knew about Antarin dietary habits), then sat down carefully on one of the chairs. He cast his gaze around, wondering what exactly was going on. He thought back to the brief Lieutenant Palamas had given before they’d beamed down, trying to think of anything that could tell him what to expect next.  
  
“ _The Antari have tried to join the Federation twice before,” she had said. “But their complex laws and social structure tends to hinder relations – the other Federation visits resulted in one of the members of the ships’ crew unknowingly insulting the Antarins causing them to cut off all communication until the next time they petitioned to join.”_  
  
Jim shook his head, trying to clear it.  
  
“ _Their religion is possibly as complex as their laws, but we can’t be positive. We only have the barest of hints of what it entails through the references made in their law books, most of which they made open to the Federation during their first petition and never withdrew.  
  
“The basic things we have to remember are to do as the Councilors say and try our hardest not to offend. I know it won’t be easy, especially without reading all of the laws, but as long as we’re careful we should be all right.”_  
  
Jim sighed. Nothing. Not even the slightest hint of what being a ‘Champion’ entailed. He wondered if maybe it had something to do with that “complex religion” Palamas had mentioned, and as he sat vaguely contemplating the sort-of-banana shaped brown thing in the bowl in front of him, he realized that must be it. Their religion was the one thing the Federation didn’t have access to, and if something as important as this “Champion” business had come up specifically in the laws, Palamas would have known to mention it.  
  
The door slid open with a hiss and Jim looked up. An Antari female entered carrying a pile of clothes. She walked briskly across the room, set the clothes down on the bed, bowed low before Jim, then left.  
  
“Okay, then,” Jim muttered. He stood, watching the door carefully in case anyone else should decide to visit, and sidled over to the bed. He unfolded each piece of clothing one at a time. There was a gold tunic with a red sash, some short trousers, and a pair of sandals much like the Romans might have worn, with straps that wound up the leg. Jim sighed, another reminder of Ancient Rome. What _was_ it with this planet?  
  
He tossed the clothes haphazardly back onto the bed, then sat next to them. He knew he was expected to put them on, but he wasn’t really in the mood to comply. He was starting to think he’d been tricked into this and he didn’t respond well to being tricked. He hoped Be’hal would be his next visitor so he could get to the bottom of this quickly.  
  
When the door opened again, Jim stood quickly, expecting another Antarin. Instead, Bones and Spock came in and if Jim didn’t know any better he would have said that Spock looked smug; but Jim did know better, so he brushed it off and glanced from Spock to McCoy (who looked annoyed, but that wasn’t unusual) and back.  
  
“Please tell me you’re here to get me out of this,” Jim pleaded, not really caring if he sounded pathetic right now.  
  
“On the contrary, Captain,” Spock said, coming to a halt in front of Jim. “We are here to inform you of what exactly ‘this’ is.”  
  
“But I’ll still have to do it?” Jim asked.  
  
McCoy snorted. “Pointy here,” he said, jabbing his thumb towards Spock, “says if we pull you out now it will be an unforgivable insult and the Antarins will never consider joining the Federation ever again. Which,” he continued under his breath, “doesn’t sound that bad to me, all things considered.”  
  
Spock gave McCoy a pointed look, as if it should be obvious why they didn’t want to piss off the Antarins. “You should realize, Doctor, that having the Antarins as allies would be much better than having them as enemies,” he said. “Their medical knowledge surpasses that of most known planets and their warp technology is already superior to our own.”  
  
“Yes,” McCoy said, nodding, “but then there’s that pesky religion of theirs.”  
  
“Surely, Doctor, you are not proposing we deny the Antarins entry to the Federation on the basis of their beliefs,” Spock said. McCoy pursed his lips but didn’t respond and Spock returned his attention to Jim, who was starting to get impatient. “If you will have a seat, Captain, this is a fairly complicated situation we find ourselves in.”  
  
Jim sat down at the table, and Spock took the other chair, leaving McCoy to stand off to the side (and, Jim noted, the Doctor looked none too pleased with this arrangement). Jim leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table, and waited for Spock to begin.  
  
“Would you like to start, Doctor?” Spock queried, not even looking at McCoy.  
  
“Why the hell not,” McCoy said, shaking his head. “Look, Jim, Chekov and Sulu weren’t drunk. Not even tipsy. Hell, they hadn’t touched a drop.”  
  
“So, why did they get arrested?”  
  
“It was a trick, Captain,” Spock explained, confirming Jim’s suspicions. “It was an attempt to force your hand; one that succeeded, in fact, when you agreed to answer for Chekov and Sulu’s crimes.”  
  
“They can’t do that,” Jim exclaimed, standing and sending his chair toppling over.  
  
“I’m afraid they can, Captain.” Jim sat again, watching Spock carefully. “I have been familiarizing myself with Antarin law and it appears that, in the case of the Champion, certain laws are allowed to be bent in order to ensure he may fulfill his task.”  
  
“Which means it’s completely legal for them to lie to us,” McCoy added.  
  
Spock finally glanced back at the Doctor, raising that eyebrow of his. “Not quite, Doctor,” he corrected. “They are allowed to use whatever means they see fit to ensure the Champion’s cooperation,” he explained, turning back to Jim. “Once the Champion has agreed to his fate, they must obey their laws as usual.”  
  
“So, they can’t lie to us any more?” Jim asked. Spock nodded. “That’s a relief, I guess,” Jim said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “And there’s no way for me to get out of this?”  
  
“Not unless you want to deprive the Federation of all the Antarins have to offer,” McCoy said, an exacerbated edge to his voice. “Never mind that they lied to us and arrested two of our men without cause.” Spock turned again to McCoy, his mouth open to speak, but McCoy cut him off. “If you even try to tell me what they did was logical, I’ll box your Vulcan ears.”  
  
Spock raised his eyebrow again. “Their actions were far from logical, Doctor,” Spock said. “But they made sense to the Antarins, and that is what matters in this instance. We are operating under their laws and must fully comply.”  
  
“Can we get to the part where we explain what the Champion does, now? Please?” Jim asked, not in the mood to see his first officer and CMO get into a fist fight in the middle of the Antari government complex (which would most definitely count as a heinous insult to the Antari, never mind the fact that Spock would probably win and Jim really didn’t want McCoy wandering around with wounded pride for weeks after leaving Antari VI).   
  
Spock returned his attention to Jim while McCoy paced over to the bed, mumbling under his breath. Jim tried to listen, but Spock had started speaking and what the Vulcan had to say struck him as more important than McCoy’s complaints.  
  
“From what I can gather, there are three challenges in three days,” Spock explained, steepling his fingers as he spoke. “The first and second we can find no record of, but the last appears to be something akin to a fight in the gladiatorial arenas of Rome.”  
  
“Rome again,” Jim muttered. When Spock raised his eyebrow in interest, Jim just waved a hand. “Keep going,” he said. He didn’t really want to get into all of the parallels to Rome he’d seen here.  
  
“You will have to fight a creature,” Spock said. “If you kill the creature, its entrails will be read as a prophecy that is supposed to reveal what is to come in the next thirty years.”  
  
“And if I don’t kill it?”  
  
“I do not know what will happen if you fail in any of your tasks.”  
  
“Suffice it to say,” McCoy interjected from the seat he’d taken on the bed. “It won’t be good.”  
  
“Very astute, Doctor.”  
  
“I’m so glad you think so.”  
  
Jim didn’t think McCoy sounded glad at all.  
  
Spock didn’t respond. He just stood as best he could, his hands behind his back, and looked down at Jim. “We have to leave you now,” he said. “But we will do all we can to find out more information. We will contact you if we find anything.”  
  
With that, Spock and McCoy disappeared out the door, leaving Jim alone once more.  
  
***  
  
“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” McCoy asked, looking up from the files he’d been reading through. Sulu had been standing in the doorway to his office looking perplexed for about five minutes now and, despite his promise to Spock that he would let nothing interrupt him from his reading up on Antarin laws, he figured whatever was bothering the young Lieutenant must be pretty important.  
  
“It’s about Chekov, Sir,” Sulu said, stepping in. His hands were draped behind his back in a way that reminded McCoy far too much of Spock, but unlike Spock, McCoy was pretty sure Sulu was wringing his hands.  
  
“Have a seat,” McCoy said, leaning back and gesturing to the chair across from him. Sulu sat. “What’s the trouble?”  
  
“He won’t leave his quarters,” Sulu said. “I can barely get him to let me in. He blames himself, Sir, for the Captain being imprisoned.”  
  
“Bloody hell,” McCoy muttered. He pressed a button on his desk, activating the Comm. “Spock,” he said. “Have you gotten the Antarins to allow Jim to communicate with the ship yet?”  
  
“I have, Doctor,” Spock replied, his voice crackling a little through the Comm. “I was about to inform you of my success on that front. Is there any particular reason?”  
  
“No,” McCoy said, “just curious.” He switched off the comm. and looked up at Sulu. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”  
  
“The way, Sir?” Sulu asked, but McCoy didn’t even have to elaborate before Sulu was nodding and leading the way out of the Sick Bay and setting off for Chekov’s room. When they got there, Chekov didn’t even answer Sulu’s knocks to tell him to go away.  
  
McCoy stepped forward, leaning his head close to the door, deciding it was time to try a new tactic. “Chekov, son, we need to talk,” he said.  
  
“I am busy, Doctor,” came the surly sounding response.  
  
McCoy glanced at Sulu who shrugged. It was a start.  
  
“Pavel, c’mon, man, let us in,” Sulu said. Chekov remained silent and Sulu shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and giving McCoy a pleading look.  
  
“Ensign Chekov,” McCoy announced in his strictest voice, “open this door immediately. Doctor’s orders.”  
  
The door slid open revealing a perturbed looking Chekov. “What?” he asked, standing in the doorway.  
  
“Can we come in?” McCoy asked. Chekov stepped aside and McCoy and Sulu filed inside. McCoy went straight to Chekov’s desk and switched on the comm. “McCoy to Kirk.”  
  
There were a few moments of crackling silence, then Kirk’s voice filled the room. “Kirk here. What’s up, Bones?”  
  
“I’ve got Chekov here, Jim,” McCoy said, eyeing the young Russian who was very carefully not looking at Sulu. “He’s blaming himself for your little predicament.”  
  
There was a moment more of silence, then “Ensign, you did nothing wrong.” Jim’s voice was strong but kind and McCoy marveled at just how easily Jim could go from goofy to Captain in a matter of seconds. “Spock and McCoy explained the situation to me, there was no way we could have expected the Antarins to act as they did.”  
  
“But, Captain-” Chekov began, but stopped when Sulu pressed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Thanks, Jim,” McCoy said.  
  
“Anytime,” Jim replied. “Have those two spend some time in the recreation room. Kirk out.”  
  
McCoy switched off the comm. then looked over at Chekov and Sulu. “You heard the Captain,” he said. “Take some time off, hit the rec room. Doctor’s orders.” He winked at them and Sulu smiled his thanks as McCoy took his leave, fuming inwardly at the Antarin Council’s trickery.  
  
When he reached his office, he collapsed in his chair and pushed the files on Antarin law aside, putting his head down in hopes of taking a short cat nap.   
  
When he woke, it was by a knock on the door, and he looked up to find Spock standing there and he knew his short nap had lasted longer than was wise. “What is it, Spock?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  
  
“We must go down to the planet, Doctor,” the Vulcan said. “The first challenge is about to begin.”


	4. The Endless Dark and Deep

“I have to do what?” Jim asked for the third time.  
  
The young Antari who had been sent to prepare him for his first Challenge cringed away, ducking his head to the side and mumbling his answer. “It is like a race, Sir. You must swim the lake faster than the last Champion.”  
  
“I don’t suppose I get to know how fast the last Champion swam, do I?” Jim asked, picking at the clothing the Antari had just brought to him. He hadn’t been sure what it was at first, but now he had a pretty good idea: a really gaudy, uncomfortable-looking bathing suit. He looked back up from the clothes to see the Antari shaking his head, then waved his hand in dismissal.   
  
He’d figured as much.  
  
With a sigh, he changed into the strange bathing suit, wondering if it would be an insult to ask Spock to bring him a real one from the ship (it probably would be), then threw the tunic and trousers that had been brought to him before on over it. They looked much better on him than the suit, and he was suddenly grateful he’d be under water for most of the time he’d be wearing it. He just hoped he could dive in before Bones saw the thing otherwise he’d never be able to forget it.  
  
He glanced at himself in the mirror once he was dressed, then sat down at the table and waited. He knew someone would be sent for him, and he hoped it was soon because he was starting to get impatient. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. The door opened and Be’hal entered looking far smugger than Jim thought he had any right to.  
  
“You must come with me,” Be’hal said, bowing low but keeping his eyes on Jim. “The challenge is about to begin.”   
  
Jim stood and followed as Be’hal led him out the door and down the long corridor outside. They went the opposite way from where Jim had come when they’d brought him here, and he made careful note of how far from the door to his room the exit was. Just in case.  
  
Outside, bleacher like seating had been set up at one end of a vast lake that was mch closer to the compound than Jim had expected. The Enterprise’s sensors had picked up bodies of water scattered over the planet’s surface, but he had wrongly assumed the Antarins would have built a little further away from the bank of one. He looked at the dark green surface of the water as Be’hal led him to a stage that had been placed in front of the bleachers, then stopped quickly as Be’hal came to a halt at what looked to Jim like an old fashioned podium.  
  
“Welcome, Antari and visitors,” Be’hal said, his voice booming out over the crowd. “Before we begin, I would like to introduce you to our new Champion.” He gestured and Jim took a grudging step forward, nodding politely at the applause that arose as Be’hal announced his name. “James Tiberius Kirk of the Federation planet Earth.”  
  
Be’hal launched into a long speech about the auspiciousness of a day such as this and how good it was of the gods to send them a new Champion, but Jim wasn’t really listening. He feigned interest to keep from insulting Be’hal and getting himself into even more trouble, but he carefully surveyed the crowd out of the corner of his eye. It didn’t take him long to find the members of his crew who had beamed down; Spock and McCoy had come, of course, but Palamas and Uhura were there as well.  
  
A sense of pride swelled in his chest and he vowed to swim the damn lake faster than the Antari would ever have expected.  
  
“And now the Champion will perform the first task,” Be’hal said, breaking through Jim’s thoughts. Jim quickly quashed the nervousness that threatened to rise up in him – he could do this. It was only a swim. “He will brave the Lake of Fire and will come out victorious!” The crowd roared, but Jim could barely hear them. His ears were buzzing as his mind raced.   
  
“Lake of Fire” did not sound good.  
  
Be’hal had turned around and was gesturing for Jim to go down to the lake, but he stayed where he was, staring down at the Antari leader. “What does that mean?” he asked in a quiet voice. Be’hal stared at him and Jim guessed he was confused though he couldn’t really tell. “‘Lake of Fire’,” he repeated. “What does it mean?”  
  
Be’hal did not answer, he just turned sharply and began the quick walk down to the edge of the lake. With a heavy sigh, Jim followed. He stopped on the bank and stripped off his tunic, trousers, and sandals, then waited. It seemed to take an eternity for Be’hal to shout out “Begin!”, but it finally came and Jim ran forward into the water, suddenly glad for the strange bathing suit they had given him. Even through the rough fabric, Jim felt like he was burning up, and he had to force himself to dive forward and begin to swim even as his mind shouted for him to stop and turn back.  
  
At least he knew what ‘Lake of Fire’ meant now.  
  
***  
  
“Lake of Fire?” Uhura said. “That doesn’t sound good.” She leaned close to Lieutenant Palamas to speak over Be’hal’s magnified voice. “Anything you read let you know what that is?”  
  
Palamas shook her head. “Nothing in the histories we have,” she said. “I’m sure it’s in their religious texts, like everything else appears to be.” She sighed. “I should have dug deeper into things,” she muttered, “then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”  
  
Uhura laid a hand on her shoulder and waited for Palamas to turn to face her before she began speaking. “This isn’t your fault,” she said.  
  
“We were operating on information I gave,” Palamas retorted. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”  
  
“It’s no one’s fault, Ladies,” McCoy said, leaning over to speak to them. His voice was calm but matter-of-fact and his brow was creased. He shook his head, glancing down at the lake before them, then sat up. “And the challenge is about to start.”  
  
The four Enterprise crewmembers watched as their Captain ran forward into the lake and, McCoy noted, Spock was the only one who didn’t look nervous.  
  
***  
  
Jim couldn’t breath. The water felt heavier than it should have been, and he felt like a weight was pressing down on his chest and he imagined he might be able to guess how Giles Corey felt before he died. Except that Jim knew too-hot water and crushing rocks were two very different things. He pulled his arm back, pushing himself around so that he could swim on his back for a little bit, pushing all thoughts of seventeenth century torture techniques from his mind as he struggled to catch his breath.  
  
If he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t swim, and if he couldn’t swim, he would fail the challenge, and only the Antari leaders knew what that would mean for Jim Kirk and his crew, and he wasn’t about to risk making things worse. He pushed himself up with his arms, pulling forward at the same time as his torso left the water and he was able to suck in a quick breath before he plunged back into the wet heat surrounding him.   
  
He flipped back onto his stomach, back to using the front crawl and struggling for a breath every few strokes. He started kicking harder, hoping that would help him finish faster, but it felt like the lake would never end and every time he thought his feet would hit bottom, he found he still had to struggle forward even further.  
  
He was starting to think he might not make it.  
  
***  
  
“Sit down, Doctor,” Spock said in that level voice of his that made McCoy’s blood boil in situations like this. Hell, the Vulcan had even placed a hand on McCoy’s arm to go along with the order – because it was an order, not a request, McCoy was sure of it.  
  
“Damn it, Spock,” McCoy growled, not moving. “He doesn’t look good.”  
  
“We cannot interfere.”  
  
“If you say that one more time, you Green Blooded, Pointy Eared-”  
  
“Doctor,” Spock interrupted firmly, standing to face McCoy eye to eye as the Doctor spluttered into silence. “While I am sure insulting me is very therapeutic, it does nothing to remedy the situation,” Spock said. “We must wait until the Captain reaches the other side. Only then may we go near him.”  
  
“What if he’s not fast enough?” Uhura asked, stopping McCoy before he had a chance to make a retort. The Doctor sat quickly, settling back in his seat before even Spock had, and looked intently at the woman beside him, waiting for her to continue. “What will happen to him?” she asked. “To us?”  
  
“Unfortunately,” Palamas said, her voice heavy, “we have no idea.”  
  
***  
  
He made it. Just when he thought he was going to drown, his foot scraped against the rocky sand on the bottom of the lake and he jumped up and sprinted forward, running full out until his feet were no longer touching the wretched liquid despite the feeling that his lungs were full of water.   
  
Be’hal was waiting for him, his expression unreadable as an attendant held out what Jim figured was a towel. “Very good, Champion,” Be’hal said as Jim rubbed himself dry with the rough cloth. “You have exceeded out expectations.” And the corners of Be’hal’s lips turned up in what Jim could only guess was a smile as the crowd erupted into applause.  
  
“Good,” Jim mumbled. “That’s good.” And he turned away from the crowd of Antari as a fit of coughing racked his body, pushing what water it could out of his system. Once he was dry and dressed, he was escorted back to his room to rest and wait. He lay down on the bed, his legs crossed so that his feet wouldn’t hang off the edge, and closed his eyes, trying to forget the heat and pain of the swim so he could sleep peacefully.  
  
But he didn’t get a chance to.   
  
Spock and McCoy interrupted his attempt at a nap a few minutes later, and McCoy set to fussing over him and checking his vitals and giving him shots to make sure he didn’t die from whatever he was exposed to in that water while Spock just stood there, watching carefully and patiently waiting his turn.  
  
Finally McCoy seemed satisfied and stepped back, letting Spock take the floor. The Vulcan took a few moments to begin speaking, but Jim didn’t even try to rush him. He’d learned that letting Spock take his time usually garnered good results.  
  
“I have not finished the investigation into the reason for your being here,” Spock said, obviously choosing his words very carefully. “I have a few theories that I would like to look into before I am able to definitively say whether your role as Champion was legally instated.”  
  
“What sort of theories?” Jim asked, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“I would like to start by questioning the Antari who supposedly witnessed Chekov and Sulu’s drunken and disorderly conduct,” Spock explained. “If you have no objections, of course.”  
  
“None,” Jim said, eyeing his first officer carefully. “But I thought you said everything the Antari did was perfectly legal according to their laws.”  
  
“I assumed that it was,” Spock said. “But McCoy has informed me of Chekov’s feelings about his role in your being Champion and this knew information makes me think that perhaps there is more to this than we initially thought.”  
  
“Very well,” Jim said. “Investigate all you want, but be careful. I don’t want any more mishaps on this planet.”  
  
“Yes, Captain.” Spock glanced at McCoy, who nodded, then the Vulcan turned and led the way out.   
  
Jim watched them leave, wishing he could go with them.


	5. There's Nothing Left

“Where do we start?” McCoy asked as Spock led the way out of the complex. Spock hadn’t really explained what his plan was to the doctor, he’d just said he had a plan about how to look into certain theories that had occurred to him. Really, McCoy knew about as much as Jim did, and it was frustrating; especially with Spock striding briskly across the courtyard and ignoring McCoy’s question.  
  
McCoy came to a halt and crossed his arms over his chest, letting Spock continue a few feet before he spoke. “Damn it, Spock,” he snapped, and the Vulcan stopped as well and turned back. “Where are we going and what are we doing?”  
  
“Is it really that crucial for you to know, Doctor?” Spock asked.  
  
“Yes it damn well is,” McCoy replied. “That’s my friend locked up back there and I want to know how you intend to get him out.”  
  
“We are going to the tavern where Chekov and Sulu are supposed to have gotten drunk,” Spock said calmly. “We are going to question the owner of the establishment to determine what really happened.”  
  
“What makes you think he’ll tell us?” McCoy asked, hurrying to catch up with Spock as they continued on their way.  
  
“Nothing,” Spock said. “In fact, I believe he won’t, but I must be certain.”  
  
McCoy found he couldn’t argue with that logic, so he walked silently beside Spock through the streets, taking in the strange architecture surrounding them as they neared the section of town that housed the Taverns. All three of them.  
  
Spock led the way into the closest, the one where Chekov and Sulu had gone. There was barely anyone inside, just the bartender and two patrons sitting at a table in the furthest corner from the door. Spock walked right up to the bartender, who was eying him and McCoy with what the doctor figured was a wary look.  
  
“Can I help you?” he growled when Spock just stood before him silently for a few minutes.  
  
Spock nodded his head so low it looked almost like a bow. “I’m sure that you can,” he said. “I am Commander Spock of the Starship Enterprise. Two of my fellow Crew Members were in this establishment a few days ago and I wished to enquire as to their activities during that time.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“In order to fully complete my log, I must know exactly what took place.”  
  
“Ask your crewmates.”  
  
“In order to be exact about certain events, one must have the facts from as many people as possible.”   
  
The man stared as Spock, his yellow eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” he asked.  
  
“My apologies,” Spock said. “As the good doctor could tell you,” he gestured to McCoy – who bit his tongue to keep from grumbling about being brought into this conversation – “I am not known for the simplicity of my language.” The man looked even more confused. “What I was trying to say was, I suppose, that I need your side of the story.”  
  
“Get it somewhere else.”  
  
Spock glanced at McCoy, who shrugged, then looked back to the bartender. “Were those gentlemen in the establishment when my crewmates were?” he asked, pointing to the men in the corner who were watching the events at the bar carefully.  
  
The bartender shook his head. “I won’t have you pestering my customers,” he said. “Get out.”  
  
Spock bowed his head in a curt nod, then turned and left with McCoy following closely behind.  
  
“What the Devil do we do now?” McCoy asked, but Spock had already pulled out his communicator and was speaking into it.  
  
“Two to beam up, Lieutenant,” he said, and the next thing McCoy knew they were standing on the transporter pad staring out at Lieutenant Kyle and Scotty – both of whom looked more disheveled than usual. McCoy wasn’t about to ask; he just followed Spock out of the transporter room, wondering where they were going but no longer impatient enough to press their little communication issue.  
  
Spock stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to McCoy, and the doctor thought maybe he’d finally find out what was going on. “Meet me at the recreation room, Doctor,” Spock said. “And if you would be so kind, program it for the Tavern we just left. If you forget any details, I will fill them in when I arrive.” With that, Spock strode away, disappearing around the corner.  
  
“Green blooded hobgoblin,” McCoy mumbled under his breath, but he set off for the nearest Turbolift, trying to remember everything he could about the Tavern.  
  
***  
  
Sulu answered the door, but Spock didn’t mention it. “I need you and Mr. Chekov to come with me,” was all he said. Sulu ducked back into the room and Spock waited in the corridor for only a few minutes before both men emerged. “Follow me,” Spock said, and led the way down the corridor towards the turbolift.  
  
“Where are we going?” Sulu asked.  
  
Spock noted that Chekov was still silent and sullen. “We are going to the recreation room,” Spock replied, but that was all he said until they got there. McCoy was waiting outside, leaning against the wall by the controls. Spock checked over the settings, making sure everything was accurate, then he turned to Chekov and Sulu.  
  
“I want to know everything you remember from the tavern, exactly how you remember it,” he said. “We are going to go into the recreation room and you are going to act out as much as you can.”  
  
“We already told you what happened,” Sulu said. “Why do we need to act it out?”  
  
“He’s testing a theory,” McCoy drawled.  
  
“Precisely, Doctor,” Spock said with a nod, completely unphased by the sarcastic lilt in McCoy’s suddenly thicker accent. “If you will follow me, gentlemen.” Spock led the way into the recreation room, which was now a perfect replica of the inside of the tavern as it would look with absolutely no people.  
  
“We started here,” Sulu said, leading Chekov over to a table in the center of the room. “We talked to a few people on our way to the table, but they were really quiet, so we just sat down. Then a woman came over and asked if we wanted anything to drink, but we said no. That was pretty much it.”  
  
“No it wasn’t,” Chekov said, his voice quiet. “The woman came back with two drinks she said were on the house because we were visitors.”  
  
“That never happened,” Sulu said, staring at his friend incredulously. “We sat, we talked, we observed, we got arrested.”  
  
Chekov nodded. “Yes, we did not drink the drinks,” he paused, thinking hard. “At least, I do not think we did.”  
  
“We never _got_ any drinks!” Sulu snapped.  
  
“Yes, we did,” Chekov retorted. “I remember distinctly because it smelled like vodka but when I took a sip-” Chekov stopped short, staring at McCoy, a horrified expression on his face. “I took a sip,” he whispered. “This is all my fault.”  
  
“On the contrary, Ensign,” Spock said. “No one from this ship is at fault.” He turned his attention to McCoy. “I want you to examine them again, but this time-”  
  
“Check for any alterations in memory,” McCoy finished. “C’mon,” he said, leading Chekov and Sulu from the room.  
  
Spock remained where he was, standing by an outer wall of the fabricated establishment, looking around him as though seeing it for the first time. “Check,” he muttered, then he turned and left.  
  
***  
  
“You were right,” McCoy said, striding onto the Bridge and up to the center chair where Spock sat with his fingers steepled. McCoy handed him a PADD with the results of the examination on them and watched Spock read it over. “We were just in time, too,” he continued when Spock said nothing. “If we’d waited another hour, the drugs the Antari used would’ve been out of their system.”  
  
“I see,” Spock said. “This means that the Antari broke their own laws.”  
  
“We knew that already,” McCoy said, confused.  
  
Spock handed the PADD back. “Yes, but this time they broke the laws about breaking their laws.”  
  
“Oh, of course. Forget I said anything,” McCoy said, tucking the PADD under his arm. “What do we do now?”  
  
“Now we confront the Council.”  
  
“Great,” McCoy muttered. “This’ll end well.”  
  
“If we handle it correctly, it will, Doctor,” Spock said, giving McCoy a pointed look.  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?” McCoy snapped, but Spock had already stood and walked past him to the turbolift. McCoy grumbled and followed him, hoping he was right about all of this.  
  
***  
  
“Seventy bottles of beer on the wall, seventy bottles of beer,” Jim sang loudly, waving his hands above him as he lay back on his bed and ran through his fifth rendition of “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall”. That would be five-hundred bottles of beer if he got all the way to the end again, and Jim found himself wishing those bottles were real.  
  
They’d give him something to do, anyway. And maybe a drunk Champion wouldn’t be allowed to be Champion anymore and he could get him and his crew out of there. Except, knowing the Antari, a drunk Champion wouldn’t be allowed to leave and his crew probably wouldn’t either.   
  
Jim sighed and stopped singing, leaving off with only four hundred and thirty bottles of beer. He figured that was enough.  
  
He rolled onto his side, facing the door, and wondered if Spock and McCoy would come to visit him once they’d tested Spock’s theories. He hoped they would. He was convinced he would go stir crazy if he didn’t get a visitor soon.  
  
As if reading his mind, the door slid open, but neither Spock nor McCoy entered. Instead, Be’hal padded quickly into the room, a frightening smile on his face. Jim sat up, watching his visitor carefully.  
  
“We must prepare you for the next challenge,” Be’hal said. “Come, to the table, I will brief you myself.”  
  
With a sigh, Jim walked slowly to the table and collapsed into a chair. Be’hal’s excitement only made him feel more trapped, but he knew he had to wait this out. One challenge down, two to go – and any information he could get on them would bring him one step closer to getting his crew away from Antari VI.  
  
“What’ve we got?” he asked.   
  
Be’hal’s grin widened.


	6. A Million Words to Say

“Shouldn’t we go to Jim first?” McCoy asked, hurrying to keep up with Spock as they headed for the conference room where Palamas and Uhura were waiting. “I mean, he should know, shouldn’t he?”  
  
“Of course he should, Doctor, but the best way for us to stop this before it goes any further is to go directly to the Council. Besides, we cannot be sure we will be allowed to see him,” Spock replied, leading him through a door and into the conference room. Palamas and Uhura were there, standing by the table, waiting.  
  
“What have we got?” Uhura asked, striding forward, her gaze locked on Spock.  
  
“We have caught the Antari in a lie that forfeits their right to have the Captain remain as their champion,” Spock explained. “They have broken the laws they set in place in regards to the Champion and the Captain’s position as such is therefore void.”  
  
“So,” Palamas said thoughtfully, “they’ve broken the laws that dictate how they can break their laws?” Spock nodded. “Then we should go to the Captain right away.”  
  
“On the contrary, we should first confront the Council,” Spock said. “I have a feeling that they are as unaware of the deceit as we were and I believe we would be more successful in stopping this if we went directly to them first.”  
  
“What makes you think they don’t know what’s going on?” Uhura asked.  
  
“A hunch, Lieutenant,” Spock replied. “A feeling, you may say,” he added, glancing at Doctor McCoy, “that I got during the meeting regarding Chekov and Sulu.”  
  
“Then we should go to sickbay first,” McCoy said, doing nothing to hide his grin. “Can’t have you getting feelings, you might damage something.”  
  
“While I appreciate your ability to joke at a time like this, Doctor,” Spock said, “that, too, can wait until after we meet with the Antari Council.” He looked to Uhura and Palamas. “Lieutenant Uhura, return to the bridge and monitor all communications on the surface. Lieutenant Palamas, I want you to see if you can find anything in their library.”  
  
Uhura disappeared out the door and McCoy, Spock, and Palamas followed shortly after. Soon, the three were once more on the planet’s surface. When they reached the main building, they split up. Palmas took the corridor to the library while Spock and McCoy made their way to the door of the council chambers. There was a young Antari standing outside, obviously there as a guard, and Spock walked right up to him.  
  
“We must see the Council immediately,” he said.  
  
“No one may enter,” the Antari replied.  
  
“We have an urgent matter to discuss with them regarding the Champion,” Spock tried again.  
  
The Antari narrowed his eyes. “The Champion cannot be discussed until his trials are complete,” he said. “That is the law and the law must be obeyed.”  
  
“Damn it!” McCoy shouted, ignoring Spock’s warning look and advancing on the Antari before him. “The law isn’t being obeyed, that’s why we’re here! He stepped up close to the Antari, practically pushing Spock out of the way. “We need to get in there and tell them that their beloved Council head is cheating.”  
  
“Cheating?” the Antari asked. “Define, please.”  
  
“He isn’t playing fair,” McCoy snapped. “He’s bending laws that aren’t supposed to be bent. Isn’t that right, Spock?” McCoy turned to Spock expecting a nod of assent, instead, the Antari he had just turned his back on gripped his wrists and slammed him against the wall.  
  
“You have insulted the Council,” the Antari said, his voice gruff and his hands rough as he cuffed McCoy’s hands behind his back. “You are under arrest.”  
  
“Insulted my ass!” McCoy shouted as the Antari began to drag him away. “How is it an insult if it’s the truth?”  
  
“I would advise you to hold your tongue, Doctor,” Spock called after them as he watched the Antari dragging McCoy away. “But I know you will not listen so I will merely say be careful.”  
  
“Just get me out of this!” McCoy shouted back just before the Antari pushed him through a door and out of Spock’s sight. “I knew we should’ve gone to Jim first,” he muttered, resisting the urge to yell more at the Antari behind him. “I knew it.”  
  
***  
  
Be’hal looked pleased with himself when he returned from taking care of something (he hadn’t been specific and Jim hadn’t asked, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know). He marched into the room and sat heavily at the table, clasping his hands together and looking directly at Jim with those eerie yellow eyes. “The Challenge is ready for tomorrow,” he said. “All is perfect.”  
  
“And what is the challenge?” Jim asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a bite of the banana-esque fruit he had finally decided to try eating (it didn’t taste like a banana, more like a weird mixture of kiwi and strawberries with something bitter thrown in, but that was okay, too).  
  
“I can only tell you nonspecific things, you understand?” Be’hal asked, eyeing Jim carefully as if he expected protest.  
  
“Yeah, I got that,” Jim said, nodding. He waved a hand, hoping Be’hal would at least give him something to go on. He hated that he had to go into all of this so blind. Even just the smallest hint would be enough, so he could prepare.  
  
“I am allowed to tell you that you will have to navigate a difficult maze,” Be’hal said. Jim’s spirit sank, that was no more (nor, thankfully, less) than they’d given him to go on for the first challenge, but Jim kept his feelings in check when he realized Be’hal was not done speaking.  
  
“At the center of the Maze,” Be’hal said, bobbing his head slowly as he spoke, “you will find what you need for the third and final challenge, which will commence the day after tomorrow.”  
  
“What I need?” Jim asked.  
  
“The equipment necessary for you to successfully complete the challenge, of course,” Be’hal said, smiling.  
  
Jim nodded. “Of course,” he said. “And what is the third challenge?”  
  
“You will know when you need to know,” Be’hal said, standing. He draped his arms behind his back in a disturbingly Spock-like way, nodded to Jim, and left. Jim stared at the door, wishing it would open and Spock and McCoy would come in and tell him it was all a practical joke, that he’d been…what was that twenty-first century term? Punk’d? Yes, that was it. Jim desperately hoped that he was being Punk’d.  
  
He sighed and finished his fruit, knowing that particular hope was pointless. He would just have to go through with the next two challenges and hope the Antari kept their word and released him afterwards. If they didn’t, well, he would deal with that issue if it came up.  
  
For now he would try to sleep and hold on to what little hope was left that Spock would come up with something, and soon. He lay down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if there would be a Minotaur waiting at the center of his maze.  
  
He hoped not, he was no Theseus and he had no Ariadne and certainly no string.  
  
He sighed and pushed his wandering thoughts and questions aside, rolling onto his side and tucking his hands up under his head. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, trying to force himself to sleep. And slowly, very slowly, he felt his thoughts calming and some sort of rest fell over him.  
  
He would be ready for tomorrow.


	7. This Winding, Twisting Road

Uhura sat on the edge of the bleachers, watching and waiting impatiently for Captain Kirk to appear on the platform the Anatari had set up near the entrance to the maze. Spock had contacted her immediately after McCoy’s arrest and told her that she would have to be the only one present for the Challenge as he and Lieutenant Palamas were going to try and find another way out of this. Uhura had assured him she would be there and after a restless night she had taken her place amongst the crowd, there to cheer on her Captain as he faced whatever dangers the Antari saw fit to put before him this time.  
  
While she waited, she surveyed the Maze the Antari had built. From the bleachers, she could almost but not quite see the passages through it, not that she would have been able to help the Captain even if she could see the way for him, he didn’t have a communicator and even if he did she had a feeling her trying to contact him would have been much too obvious. Still, she couldn’t help but think the fact that the crew was being allowed to watch the Challenges if they wished had something to do with how the bleachers were set, and that made Uhura even more nervous.  
  
Just what was in that maze they didn’t want her to see?  
  
A roaring cheer sounded from the crowd and Uhura turned her attention away from the maze as Be’hal appeared with Kirk only a few steps behind. Kirk was looking out over the crowd and Uhura raised a hand in a quick wave when she thought he was looking in her direction, determined to show her support even if she was not allowed to speak with her Captain.  
  
And, if she wasn’t mistaken, she thought that slight incline of his head was a nod of acknowledgement, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips at the thought that she’d done something, no matter how small.  
  
***  
  
“Fellow Antari,” Be’hal said, his voice booming as he addressed the crowd that sat waiting for Jim to begin the next challenge. Jim was stuck a few feet behind Be’hal and, for the first time, his hands had been tied. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why, he hadn’t done anything to hinder the tradition he was forced to participate in, the only guess he had was that Spock and McCoy had gotten up to something that made his captors think he was going to try to escape. Which he might have considered, if he had any idea what Spock and McCoy had figured out, but since he was basically in the dark about everything he thought it would be best to see this through. He just wished that Be’hal would have asked if he had any intentions of escaping, maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck with rough rope chaffing at his wrists. Assuming Be’hal believed him, of course.  
  
While Be’hal went into his long winded speech about the honor and glory of Antari VI and the auspiciousness of the Champion and his challenges, Jim looked out over the crowd, hoping that his crew had managed to get away from their investigation long enough to come and see him tackle the maze – which, from what Jim could see, looked fit for Crete. This thought did nothing to ease his fears, however, so he pushed it aside and focused on finding Spock, McCoy, Palamas, and Uhura.  
  
He started by giving the crowd a quick scan, just to see if he could spot the very distinct uniforms. When that didn’t yield any results, he started focusing on each section one at a time until he caught a flash of red and an arm raised in what looked like a wave. He squinted, looking closer, and nodded slightly when he saw that it was Uhura, and she was very much alone.  
  
He felt a rush of disappointment wash over him at seeing that only one member of his crew had made it, but he quickly pushed it aside. Obviously some more pressing matter had kept the others away and Jim could not fault them for that, especially since he was pretty sure that the pressing matter was related to his predicament. Instead, he took heart in the fact that at least someone had been able to make it and reminded himself that if he could just make it through this he’d be one step closer to getting the hell out of there.  
  
So when Be’hal raised his arms and announced that it was time for the challenge to begin, Jim stepped to the entrance of the maze with his head held high. A man waiting at the entrance cut the ropes binding him, reminded him that he had to get to the center, retrieve the items, and return to the start before nightfall in order to have successfully completed the challenge, then Jim was ready to go in.  
  
***  
  
Palamas watched carefully as Spock paced back and forth across the conference room. She thought it might be prudent for her to be worried by this, considering that in most humans it would be seen as a sign of agitation, but she knew that whatever his outward appearance Spock was going over the logic of the situation and trying to find a way to solve it. It was all a puzzle to him, a fact that fascinated Palamas. Sometimes he reminded her of Sherlock Holmes or Gil Grissom from those ancient sources of entertainment, but she also knew that half of Spock was human and no matter how much of a puzzle this was to him somewhere deep down there was an emotional reaction that barely asserted itself.  
  
That, she figured, was why he was pacing and that was why she wasn’t too worried.  
  
“We have two options,” Spock finally said, coming to a halt in front of the table and looking down at Palamas. “We either wait until the challenge is over and then confront the Council about the deceit, or we find a way to reveal it before the final challenge.”  
  
Palamas nodded her head slowly. “Since there’s a chance Captain Kirk may not make it out of these challenges, our best course of action would be to get this out in the open as soon as possible.”  
  
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Spock said, inclining his head in the slightest of nods. “Will Be’hal give a speech before every challenge?”  
  
Palamas nodded. “It’s part of the ritual.”  
  
“Then we will take our evidence and confront him before he can give his speech tomorrow,” Spock said.  
  
Palamas nodded and stood. “Then we better get started,” she said.  
  
***  
  
The sun was already dangerously low in the sky when Jim reached the center of the maze. He hadn’t run into any obstacles, and he hadn’t really expected to, but it felt like every time he thought he had the right path he’d run into another dead end and been forced to back track. Finally, however, he was standing in the center of the maze staring at a table laid with leather armor, a shield, and a sword. He groaned. So there really was going to be a gladiatorial battle after all. He had really been hoping that wouldn’t be the case.  
  
With a sigh he pulled on the armor, strapped the sword belt around his waist, and hefted the shield in his hand, then he followed the careful trail he’d made on the way in by digging his heels into the dirt. It wasn’t precise, and he made a few more wrong turns on the way, but he finally found the entrance and emerged to the roaring of the crowd.  
  
The sun was not fully set, he had completed the challenge.  
  
“Tomorrow!” Be’hal shouted. “Tomorrow will be the final challenge and we shall see if our Champion lives up to his name!”  
  
***  
  
From her perch up above, Uhura could just barely make out what exactly Kirk was wearing – armor, it looked like, and a sword with a shield in his hand. She froze. He was going to have to fight someone, to kill someone. She stood and pushed her way through the crowd. She had to let Spock know.  
  
If what she knew of gladiators applied here, and she hoped it didn’t, she had a feeling she knew who he would be forced to fight.


	8. You Can Only Push Someone so Far

It  went about as well as Spock expected. Meaning not well at all. But he had to try because it was procedure. Protocol.  _ By the book _ , as Doctor McCoy would put it. McCoy would  likely also lecture Spock on there being a time and a place to rigidly follow rules, implying that this was not the time or the place. But in Spock's experience, one should follow the rules as closely as possible - particularly in more delicate situations such as this one. Because he had made sure to approach every obstacle with Federation approved problem solving, the Federation could find no fault in how things went from here.

 

And they were about to go as wrong as  was  possible.

 

Spock followed his Antari guard through the  complex's hallways, into a section that was even more austere than the rest of the building - a feat Spock would not have thought possible if asked to consider it. This,  then, was their dungeon. There were more branching hallways here, different sections for different types of prisoners. It was eerily quiet, no shouts from the imprisoned, no demands to be released, no requests for representation. Either it was empty, the Antari laws obeyed by all, or there was something more sinister here.

 

C onsidering everything that had happened so far, Spock was inclined towards the assumption of the latter, but he let himself hope it was only the former.

 

The cell he was led to already contained one other prisoner. McCoy sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, head tilted back. He lazily met Spock's gaze as  the guard ushered the Vulcan in, quickly relocking the door behind him . Spock considered the small bench/bed in the corner,  before sitting on the floor beside McCoy.

 

"You do not look surprised, Doctor," Spock said after a few minutes of silence.

 

" I figured you'd piss somebody off eventually," McCoy said, grinning at Spock.

 

"I'm glad you think so highly of me."

 

McCoy laughed, an odd sound considering the seriousness of their situation. "Ain't that," he said, laying a hand lightly on Spock's thigh and patting once before removing it. "I think very highly of you, you pointy eared bastard. But you're an acquired taste." He  laughed again and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, what did you do?"

 

"I requested an audience with the council," Spock said. "When that was granted, I gave them my theory and laid out the evidence we had already accumulated."

 

"Bet that went over well," McCoy drawled, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

 

Spock nodded. "Indeed, Doctor, they arrested me for insulting the council and for false claims against Be'hal."

 

"But you provided evidence," MCcoy said. "Shouldn't they at least have considered it?"

 

"You are assuming they didn't already know, Doctor." Spock met McCoy's gaze. "Given what has happened to the two of us, I think it is safe to assume that the entire council is behind this , not just Be'hal."

 

"That's a shitty way to open up discussions with the Federation."

 

"I'm not sure that they really want to join the Federation," Spock said. McCoy cocked an eyebrow and Spock continued. "It seems to me that what they really wanted was to orchestrate everything that has happened since we arrived.  I believe they did not want to leave the arrival of the champion to chance, for the sake of their own prosperity."

 

" So it was a trap from the start?" McCoy asked. Spock inclined his head in a slight nod. "Bastards," McCoy muttered. Then, after a moment. "What's our plan?"

 

"We wait, Doctor."

 

"That is a terrible plan."

 

Spock gestured at the door to their cell. "By all means, Doctor, go do something," he said.

 

McCoy rolled his eyes. "All right, all right," he said. "What are we waiting for?"

 

"That will depend on the Captain and Lieutenant Uhura."

 

**

 

This time when Be'hal came into his room, Jim was not deferential. He was not quiet or polite. He was sick and tired of being in the dark. Sick and tired of being a puppet in someone else's game. He was already on his feet when the door opened, pacing back and forth in the room, trying to come up with some sort of plan besides just waiting this out. When Be'hal strode in, mouth pulled taut in what was unmistakably a grin, Jim advanced, looming over him.

 

An obvious and deliberate slight.

 

Be'hal's grin did not fade and he did not waver as he gazed up at Jim. "Are you prepared, champion?" he asked. "Are you ready for your final challenge?"

 

Jim clenched his fists at his sides. "I'm not going anywhere or doing anything else until you tell me what this is all about," he said. "Why did you do this to me? To my crew?" He pulled back, turned away from Be'hal - another slight, this one not deliberate, just a need to get _away_. "This was a diplomatic mission and you turned it into a," he waved a hand out to the side, trying to think of what word best suited. He wasn't sure there _was_ one and the pause stretched on, the silence a reminder of everything weighing on Jim's shoulder.

 

He blew out a sigh and turned around. "We came here to help you prepare to join the Federation and instead you lied to us, you manipulated us, and you used us," he said. "Why should I keep playing your game when you won't even tell me what it's all about?"

 

Be'hal's smile had finally dropped, his face back to its usual unreadable blankness. He fixed his gold eyes on Jim and stood his ground, practically growling out his response. "We needed a champion," he said. "It has been too long and our people were forgetting. We needed someone strong, someone to defeat our enemies and bring prosperity to our lands once more!"

 

It sounded like a rehearsed speech, likely the one he'd used to convince the council to go along with his plan. Jim, however, was not a member of the council. He was the captain of the Federation's flagship and he would be a pawn in no one's game.

 

"I will complete your challenge," he said, voice slow as he carefully chose his words. He had to phrase this exactly. "But only on one condition."

 

Be'hal tugged his mouth open in what could only be a sneer. "You are in no position to make demands," he said. "You will do what is expected or we will destroy you, your crew, and your ship."

 

Jim shook his head. "One condition," he said again. "You let me and my crew go and never contact the Federation again."

 

Be'hal was quiet for a long moment and Jim was certain his request would be denied. Instead, the grin returned to his face and he nodded. "Very well," he said. "After this challenge, you and your crew may leave and we will never bother your precious Federation again."

 

Jim nodded his head, the closest thing to a bow he was willing to bestow on Be'hal at this point, and took a seat at the table, wondering why achieving this concession didn't feel like much of a victory.

 

**

 

"Any luck?" Sulu asked, coming up behind Uhura. She shook her head, trying another frequency. The Antari had been jamming their communications since after the second challenge, likely trying to control the situation now that the _Enterprise_ 's crew knew what they were really up to. Chekov's knee bumped against hers and she startled, letting out a nervous laugh. She'd forgotten he was under the console, trying to find a way around the signal jam.

 

"What are we going to tell them?" she asked, turning her chair and looking up at Sulu. His brow was furrowed and he shook his head. Uhura reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "It isn't your fault, Hikaru," she said, repeating the words both she and Chekov had been telling him for days now. "They _drugged_ you, you couldn't have known what they were planning."

 

Sulu nodded slowly. "I know I just," he shook his head now. "I just don't want Starfleet Command to know." His voice was quiet, his head turned away.

 

Uhura wished she could tell him his role in events would be left out of the report, but that wasn't possible. Chekov and Sulu's being drugged was when all of this had started and it was a pertinent detail. "You did nothing wrong," she said again instead, squeezing his arm lightly. "Command will know that and I'm sure both Spock and the Captain will back you up."

 

Chekov grunted and slid out from under the console, standing up and slapping a hand to Sulu's shoulder. "Yes, Hikaru," he said, grinning. "We have reached a milestone, no?" Sulu shook his head, not understanding, and Chekov laughed. "We both have been tricked by an alien race!"

 

"Wasn't on my bucket list, Pavel," Sulu muttered, but he was smiling a little and Uhura counted that as a victory.

 

She turned her attention to Chekov and he gave a quick nod before leading Sulu back to their stations, still joking about being taken in by seemingly innocent aliens. Uhura shook her head and turned back to her console, flicking through a few frequencies and trying once again to raise Starfleet Command.

 

She was positive it wasn't working, that once again they were cut off and trapped, when she heard it, very faint through her earpiece. _'Enterprise, this is Starfleet Command, do you copy?'_

 

**

 

Spock was disturbingly unsurprised when the Antari guard came back for them. He followed quietly as they were led through the twisting tunnels and out into the bright Antari day. The bleachers were set up once more, crowded with cheering Antari. McCoy watched Spock from the corner of his eye, wondering what the Vulcan knew that he didn't - probably quite a bit, not that McCoy would ever admit that.

 

A wall had been set up, tall and made of stone. The Antari changed the structures in this square frighteningly quickly. It had been a maze barely a day before. The guard led them to a door and knocked twice. It opened and he gestured them forward. Spock stepped inside without hesitation but McCoy took a moment to scan the bleachers. He saw no flashes of color, no familiar uniforms or faces.

 

They were very much alone.

 

**

 

When Be'hal had said he would defeat their enemies, Jim had started to get uneasy. As he stood in what was unmistakably a gladiatorial arena, the uneasiness grew. But when a door opened and Spock and McCoy were ushered inside by an Antari guard, unease turned to rage. _These_ were their enemies? He expected Jim to kill his friends? His crewmates?

 

He heard Be'hal's voice booming out over the crowed and listened through the pounding in his ears. "Criminals have come to our city!" he declared. "Liars who would turn us against one another. Now our Champion will destroy them and bring peace and prosperity back to us, as it should be!"

 

"As it should be!" the crowd replied.

 

Jim looked at Spock and McCoy, standing in the shade of the wall, and he dropped the weapons he had been given. "No!" he yelled out, not sure anyone could hear him. "I won't do it. I won't kill my friends!"

 

A hush fell over the crowd. A door opened and Be'hal led a group of guards through. He met Jim's eye and that eerie sneer was back on his face. "Arrest them," he growled . "Tomorrow they will be put to death!"


	9. Served My Time in Vain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might need a few more chapters than I initially thought, we shall see. Enjoy chapter 9!

"I'm sorry," Jim said, letting his head back against the wall with a quiet thump. He ignored the glare McCoy shot him and shook his head back and forth. "This is all my fault. I never should have enabled them in the first place and now it's gotten out of control."  
  
"It was out of control the moment we beamed down, Captain," Spock said. "If it hadn't been us, it would have been another ship, another captain. Whoever the Federation sent would have gone through this. It was always their goal."  
  
"Was killin' us always their goal?" McCoy asked. He had managed to sit on the small bed, sticking his legs out in front of him and slouching back against the wall for some semblance of comfort. Spock was pacing by the door, stopping occasionally to look at Jim, who sat on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest.  
  
"Inconclusive," Spock said, meeting McCoy's gaze for a moment before he resumed his pacing. "I do not believe they set out intending to harm any of us," Spock said, ignoring McCoy's snort of disbelief. "I believe they only wanted to manipulate us enough to set the Champion rituals in motion. It was only when we began to interfere that we were imprisoned and deemed enemies of Antar."  
  
"And then it became okay to kill us," McCoy finished. "And now that Jim's refused to go along with their final game, he's forfeit his life, too?"  
  
"That is how it appears, Doctor," Spock nodded and stopped pacing, staring out the door at the blank hall beyond.  
  
"What do we do now?" McCoy asked, looking from Spock to Jim, wondering which of them was going to answer - he hoped it was Jim. Hoped that the Captain would get back on his feet and focused on the problem at hand rather than dwelling on his perceived failure, but he had a sick fear in his gut that Spock would be the one to lead them out. That Jim would not recover from this.  
  
Spock slowly turned around and McCoy tried not to hold his breath as he waited.  
  
"We get the hell out of here," Jim said, standing up. "And we make sure the Antari never do this to anyone else ever again."  
  
**  
  
The signal was weak and Uhura was terrified it would drop out before she finished relaying the situation to Starfleet Command. She had made sure to ask for backup before she started in on the details, and the _Hades_ was on the way. So if they had to fight their way out, at least they wouldn't be fighting alone. Now she had to relay the details of the situation - or as many as she could - before the signal went out again.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder at Sulu and Chekov. They were at their stations, not that there was much they could do - they weren't leaving without the captain, McCoy, and Spock. Shooting their way out was a last resort - but Uhura had thought that getting them back on active duty quickly would help ease their embarrassment over what had happened. But the expression on Sulu's face when he met her eye told her it was too soon.  
  
Especially with her about to tell Starfleet Command about their involvement in the events on the planet. She glanced at her console. The signal was still viable.  
  
"Sulu, Chekov, take a break. Riley and Farrell, take over their stations." Reluctantly, Sulu followed Chekov into the turbo-lift. Hopefully the energetic Russian could keep Sulu distracted. Riley replaced Chekov while Farrell took Sulu's station, and Uhura returned to the task at hand, breathing a sigh of relief when she confirmed that she still had the signal.  
  
\--  
  
"Hikaru...," Chekov watched his friend carefully as they sat in the mess, nursing questionable coffee from the replicators. Sulu didn't look up, just stared down at the liquid in his cup as if it held the answers to the universe. "Hikaru, are you all right?"  
  
"We have to get them out of there," Sulu said, finally looking up, meeting Chekov's gaze, his expression fierce. "It's partly our fault, we have to fix it."  
  
"What can we do that we have not already done?" Chekov asked, but Sulu had already stood and was heading out of the room, coffee forgotten. After a moment, Chekov followed, still wondering what in the Tsar's name Sulu was planning, but unwilling to let him go it alone.  
  
\--  
  
The first time she heard it, Uhura thought it was just interference on the channel, but when it repeated the exact same pattern, she sat up straighter, listening closely as it went into a third repeat. She copied it out onto a PADD, and as the final beep sounded in her ear, the signal cut out. She had no idea how much information had gotten though to Starfleet, or what she had opted to listen to instead. She stared down at the dots and dashes she had rendered the beeps in, trying to find some sort of recognizable pattern. It wasn't Morse-code, of course, because this wasn't Earth. And the universal translator wasn't going to help decipher a cryptogram. But Uhura's own xenolinguistic background should suffice, she thought, running through Antari sound clusters, trying to find something that matched what she was looking at.  
  
But nothing fit.  
  
Unless. Uhura stood up, running the combinations through her head even as she hurried to the turbolift, barley noticing as M'Ress took her station. She had to get to the transporter room as quickly as possible.  
  
It wasn't a code. It was coordinates.  
  
\--  
  
Sulu looked up guiltily when the transporter room doors opened and Uhura strode in, but she waved it away. "Good, you're already here," she said, handing Kyle the PADD with the coordinates as she strode past on her way to the platform. She took her spot between Sulu and Chekov and nodded, closing her eyes as the familiar tingle of transport washed over her body.  
  
When she opened them again, it took her a moment to adjust to the darkness. But when she did, she found that the three of them were in a close tunnel surrounded by armed Antari. Slowly she raised her hands and waited. They had been called here and they had come, it was the Antari's move now.  
  
An oddly tall Antari at the front of the group waved and one of their fellows strode forward, carefully scanning Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu before nodding and stepping back behind the taller Antari, who lowered their weapon and nodded. The rest of the Antari also lowered their weapons and Uhura took that as the cue to lower her hands.  
  
She took a tentative step forward and gave a slight bow. "I am Lieuntant Uhura of the Starship _Enterprise_ , this is Lieutenant Sulu," she gestured to her left, "and Ensign Chekov," then to her right. "You called us here?" she asked, wondering how well Sulu and Chekov were doing at hiding their confusion, but knowing full well turning her back on the Antari was an insult, so she couldn't very well check.  
  
She figured Chekov was having a harder time of it than Sulu, he was the greener of the two.  
  
"I am Ka'chen," the taller Antari said, straightening up and tapping their chest where a black X was stitched into their tunic, the Antari symbol for an enemy of the state. Uhura tried very hard not to stare. "We wish to help you save your people and leave us in peace," Ka'chen said.  
  
"How are you all here?" Uhura asked, looking around at the crowd of Antari surrounding them. "I thought all prisoners were executed."  
  
Ka'chen's lips stretched into an eerie, cold smile. "Prisoners is the key word," they said. "We have not been caught."  
  
"But...how?" Chekov asked, his voice low and quiet with awe.  
  
"Come," Ka'chen said, waving them forward and turning to lead them further into the tunnel. "We will eat and drink and talk."  
  
"I'm not sure how I feel about eating or drinking," Sulu said, falling into stride beside Uhura.  
  
"Understandable," Ka'chen said. "I will personally taste all of your dishes before you, will that allay your fears?"  
  
Sulu glanced at Uhura, clealry surprised. "Yes, thank you."  
  
"After everything our government has done, it is the least I can do."  
  
They followed in silence after that, a crowd of Antari surrounding them as they walked and wondered what came next.  
  
\--  
  
Be'hal was raging. There had been transporter activity from the Enterprise, but there was no sign of whoever had beamed down. Which meant only one thing. The rest of the Council sat quietly while Be'hal ranted and paced before them, detailing all of the impossible plans to take care of this hiccup that came into his mind. He had been ignoring the Black X, thinking them a harmless group of renegades that, having realized they were not welcome within the city, had disappeared never to bother the rest of them again.  
  
He had _underestimated_ them.  
  
He roared and slammed his fists down on the table, glaring down at Jen'hok, the counselor in charge of Antari's justice and defense system. "Find them," Be'hal growled. "I don't care how, just do it!"  
  
He whirled on his heel and stormed out. He had to check on his prisoners, to reassure himself they were still there. He knew it was impossible that they weren't. There was no way into their cell save the key he held and the building was blocked to transporter beams. But still. He had to see them for himself.  
  
Behind him, as the door swung closed, Jen'hok stood, not meeting the eyes of the rest of the counselors. They all knew what they were doing, had all made the decision together behind Be'hal's back, but none of them wanted to acknowledge it in the open. They couldn't, really. Because if this went wrong. If they were caught out before it was all over. That would mean the end. Of everything.  
  
He turned and left through a door towards the back, head bowed, shoulders heavy with the weight of what was to come.


End file.
